Half a Year of Living Dangerously
by Taurus
Summary: About a strange girl and her stranger mutation. Original Character. Rating for language.
1. Solitaire in the Dark Chase POV

Disclaimer: All X-Men belong to Marvel Entertainment. This is a work of non- profit fanfiction, and is not an attempt to infringe on the copyright of Marvel, because let's face it, who WANTS a trillion dollar lawsuit on their hands when they're not even old enough to smoke yet, huh? And yes, I DID steal my chica's name from Carmen Sandiego's Think Quick Challenge, but I'm not making money off it, so you can't sue! Nyah, nyah!  
  
Reviews will be worshipped. Flames are only degrading to the sender. This is one of my first fanfics, so go easy, all right? By the way, Chase ISN'T a Mary-Sue, kay? I don't do them. She MAY have a couple of my talents, but that's just because I don't know how to describe something I've never actually experienced, kay?  
  
Following is a brief profile on my original character so that you won't get lost, kay?  
  
Legal Name: Chase Brenna Devoneaux  
  
Height: 5 foot 2 158cm  
  
Weight: 103 lbs. 46.72kgs  
  
Eye Color: Black sclera, blue iris  
  
Hair Color: Black  
  
Nationality: Irish American/French Canadian  
  
Approximate Age: 18  
  
Marital Status: Single  
  
Group Associations: X-Groups  
  
Relatives: Gary Devoneaux, father; Maria Devoneaux, mother; Liam Patrick Devoneaux (deceased), brother  
  
Mentors: Psylocke, Cable  
  
MUTANT DESIGNATE: Reservoir (formerly Rift)  
  
Powers: Unknown. Is believed to have had the genetic code for psionisis of some form. Was possessed by the Phoenix some two years ago.  
  
(Note: I'm not going to put this story out the traditional way. First, I'm going to post vignettes of thought, what she thinks of herself, what others think of her. She's kind of like a shrink, but she does things very personally. She doesn't believe in the distant, I'm-going-off-to-angst-on- my-roof or I'm-a-psycho-you-can't-touch-me thing. She's skittish around ferals, but she doesn't mind Sabretooth for some reason. I'll post a prequel later on, but I think putting out some angsty vignettes will round things out.  
  
So when this first one starts, Chase is "treating" Archangel, and not having much luck. Colossus and Psylocke are dead, and she's been treating him for a few months, which is odd for her. She's treated Gambit, Pete Wisdom, and Sabretooth in the past, and they all got over their little problems. So she's really worried about Archangel. Sorry. I'll shut up now. Roll it!  
  
Chase POV  
  
Solitaire in the Dark  
  
Hollow bones.  
  
I have to smile when I hear him say those words. He has them, after all, along with a sixteen-foot wingspan. Funny. For an angel, he angsts an awful lot. But then again, that's the only reason I've ever meant anything to him. Because I shut up when he plays solitaire in the dark, because I don't say a word when he shuffles the plastic-laced linen cards and lays them down in perfect sets, because I don't make a sound when he rambles on about the ethics of cheating at a game in which you are the only player. That's all I mean to him. An inanimate figure with big hollow eyes and no words with which to contradict or mock or interrupt him.  
  
Control.  
  
I have that, too. He's always admired me for my control. Though he has more than nearly anyone else in the world, he somehow guesses that I have more than he does. Well, I do. My emotions are practically nonexistent. That's why I'm here. In the dark. Watching him play solitaire.  
  
My throat aches to vibrate with sound, my lips to form words of consolation. But it is precisely that consolation that he will never accept.  
  
Ah, well. C'est la vie.  
  
I've never understood him, though I pretend to when I'm with everyone else. I think I've even fooled him into believing I know everything about him, what he's done, how his mind works, how his heart pumps blood which circulates around his body, keeping him alive. But I don't. I can only watch as he throws himself down a self-destructive path.  
  
How can playing solitaire in the dark be self-destructive when you wear contact lenses that spray light on everything you see?  
  
I'm not sure.  
  
But I know he despises himself for letting her die. Who is she? You know. Psylocke. Betts. Kwannon. Lady Mandarin. Even Captain Britain at one time. She has so many identities that even her closest friends aren't quite sure who she was when Vargas speared his sword through her abdomen.  
  
At least he didn't have to watch.  
  
Her teammates had to. Hank. Rogue. Even Neal at the end, even though he won't admit it. Warren hates himself for not at least being there. He thinks if he were there, maybe he could have stopped her death in some way.  
  
Bullshit.  
  
He would have been just as incapacitated as Beast, or the near-invulnerable Southern Belle everyone seems to have their eye on these days.  
  
I'm just not sure that I can fix him.  
  
But why can't I? I've fixed some serious problem cases before. I weaned Sabretooth of his fascinated addiction to the psychological drug, "The Glow." I exorcised Gambit's inner demons, I even cured Pete Wisdom's fanatical alcoholism. I'm still working on that cigarette addiction. I don't know, the man sure loves his fags.  
  
And Warren.  
  
I still don't know how to deal with him. I shadow him every moment of every day. At night I sleep cradled in his light blue arms, cushioned on the silvery white feathers of his wings.and I still don't understand him at all. I don't know what to do to make him believe I care. I can't say anything. Otherwise the spell will be broken. The spell of quiet angst. If I say anything, I might make him scream, yell, throw things.  
  
Lose control.  
  
And control is the thing I've always been taught to encourage.  
  
Maybe I should ask him to stop playing solitaire in the dark.  
  
But his card-playing is a way to vent the anger within.  
  
Or is it?  
  
How should I know? I'm a sixteen-year-old shrink whose mutation is instilling self-control. Well, something like that, anyhow. If only She were still here, still with him. I think that's the only thing he wants. He's still in love with her ghost.  
  
Shit. I wish I were Mastermind. Or even Mystique. Yeah. Mystique. That would be better. More realistic. He'd never believe it if he were suddenly whisked away into a place with no suffering, with the woman of his dreams, with the woman he loved and lost and never really held. It would be a lot more believable if she suddenly walked back into his life, maybe devoid of her original powers, but alive.  
  
But I'm not a shapeshifter. I'm just talking myself in circles. I'm just angsting up a storm, the sort of thing Gambit used to do when he had time to kill and didn't want to do the Danger Room grind. He'd drag me up to the roof until his eyes got so heavy he couldn't keep them open anymore, and then we'd go back to bed, and he'd hold me for a little while, then push me away and roll to the other side of the bed.  
  
Well, maybe he just didn't want to co operate with the clingy side of my therapy.  
  
Neither did Wisdom.  
  
But Warren never pushed me away, like even Kitty did when I was expunging her jealousy of her mentor from her heart. Warren just lays there, one hand in my hair and the other on my back, perfectly still but for the lift of his stomach while he's breathing. He breathes so quickly, as though his lungs are bored and haven't anything better to do.  
  
He's always awake. He doesn't sleep until at least two-thirty. But then, I never sleep until at least three. So I have him beat. I have him under my constant vigilance. But maybe he doesn't need my constant vigilance. Maybe he needs to be alone for a while. Maybe he needs me to say I really do care, that my mutation doesn't expunge all my emotion. Maybe.  
  
Maybe he doesn't need me at all 


	2. Salvation Warren POV

Warren POV—Salvation  
  
The all-unpowerful.  
  
That's what she calls herself, because before she was possessed by the Phoenix Force that's what she was. A Rifted child who'd been cheated out of the mutated genes which should have made her an unstoppable fighting force by a cruel disease which killed both her first love and traumatized her so severely that her sclera turned black. Black like her soul. Black like the overpowering emptiness within that caged her ability for negative and very strong emotion, black like the loss of her twin brother.  
  
She calls his name at night, when she's nestled in my arms and wings, when she's asleep and believes me to be in the same state. She calls his name, and sometimes I wonder how her mourning for a boy she scarcely remembers can easily overpower mine for a woman I loved so long. Because it does.  
  
She screams and weeps, when she thinks no one can see her. For her, that is the equivalent of suicidal in an ordinary person, even one so strongly rooted as the Professor.  
  
But no one else knows how much she misses him, because she only cries out in her sleep, and she only weeps to me. No one else. It's comforting. The knowledge that she couldn't let go around partiers like Wisdom and LeBeau, couldn't let herself really feel around even the empathetic.  
  
But I hate feeling her sorrow. Because the Phoenix weeps with her. She wanted so much to feel when she was Jean, and now she knows the full spectrum of human emotion. Where she once knew joy and power and anger, now she knows grief.  
  
Not ordinary grief, like that of a woman mourning after her lover, but that of a human child mourning after its soul-mate. Because that's what I believe twins are. Two halves of the same spirit. And when one is killed, or when they are separated, they feel the emptiness like a yawning abyss of distress.  
  
Unspoken distress. That is what makes it so terrible. It is always unspoken. She doesn't know I hear her, that I hold her down in the night when her sobs might pull her from my grasp should I hold any less tightly. I can't let go. It would be tearing out my heart to let her go, to push her away when she's sleeping and sobbing and dreaming God-knows-what.  
  
The Phoenix speaks to me, she tells me things Chase would never tell me. Because she's afraid to. Sometimes I look into those chill blue eyes of hers and I wonder whether they're iced, like Bobby when he freezes his molecules. Because they're so terrifyingly clear, so terrifyingly cold, so terrifyingly blue. And then, the black surrounds them, reminding me of LeBeau. But LeBeau has devil's eyes. Chase's eyes are pure, unadulterated power.  
  
I remember being afraid of her before the Phoenix Force possessed her. Before she was made the most powerful creature in the cosmos. She was…intimidating. And not because she was a human with those eyes of hers, which were twice as cold before than now, because there was no "Fire and Life Incarnate" glowing behind them. It was because we never knew…we never knew just what she could have been.  
  
We never imagined this.  
  
This is something we're familiar with. We never thought the child without feelings could become the Phoenix. It just never crossed our minds. Essex believed she would become something…amazing. But he never said this would happen. He probably didn't even know. Hell, the man isn't God.  
  
She even calmed him down. She's his life's work, after all. He even blew X-Man off in favor of her, and that was before the whole possession shebang. He hasn't once checked the Summers line again, and he's done everything in his power to protect her. And he can't do anything but look at her and note her progress because she's too powerful.  
  
Nathan always looks smug nowadays. He was one of the only others, besides Betsy, who believed in her. Who believed we shouldn't disregard her potential, even when she was the one saying that she couldn't do a damn thing. He got close to her, when none of us could. She was always shy of everyone else, including Logan, which surprises me because he's usually the one getting protégées, not Nate.  
  
Strange. I used to have feelings for Jean, and now I'm almost completely sure I'm in love with the third Phoenix.  
  
Shit.  
  
I love her.   
  
I'm in love with her.  
  
She's been trying to help me get over Betsy for two years and the second she turns legal I figure my shit out. She's going to be so pissed off at me.  
  
What the hell am I going to do?  
  
I can't angst. She hates it when I do that. God, I want a deck of cards. No, she hates it when I play solitaire, because it's an isolated game. I used to want to be alone, solo, in the dark, but not anymore.  
  
She saved me. 


	3. Sacrifice Cable POV

Cable POV—Sacrifice  
  
Chase and I go way back. We share a psi-link. People say that I was the first and only one to believe in her, and Xavier says that it was my subconscious psionic recognizing a potential Phoenix host. I say it's because she was, is, and will always be irresistible. I'm not quite sure what made me treat her like an equal, as opposed to the half-ordinary human she was. I mean, the only thing going for her were her weird eyes, and I've got to say, eyes that are so similar to that flonqing Cajun bastard's aren't very interesting to me.  
  
The first moment I saw her, it was like everything went into suspended animation. She was beautiful, for sure, but I wasn't analyzing her that way. I wasn't even analyzing her, which is amazing in itself. Usually, the warrior in me sizes people up the second I see them, measuring their powers and strengths against mine, testing myself mentally to see how difficult they would be to defeat. But it wasn't like that.  
  
There she was, this girl, barely fourteen, adorable as hell, Rifted, angsty, her eyes red from the pain of leaving home and the only reminders of her loved and lost twin, and all I could think was, Oath. My mind pretty much quit working. And I'm not talking anything sick here, I'm talking about pure, untainted psionic fascination. I could feel her psi-signature billowing around her like that leather jacket of Starsmore's. And it was folding me in, too. Dom was looking at me funny because she could feel it through our link. I think she was worried because I hadn't had any coffee that morning.  
  
Scott didn't like Chase, and I could feel he thought that the only reason I was taking any interest in her was because he didn't believe she was an asset or interesting at all. He thought whoever was sponsoring her was wasting their money and that Xavier was wasting his time. But I knew better.  
  
Then, that night she asked me to show her…everything, I poured myself into her. I didn't only show her the reality and the horrors of my life, I opened my soul and allowed her to feel every nuance of emotion I had experienced during those years, all those years. I knew she could take it, even if she was just an adolescent girl from the boonies without powers or potential. I didn't know she had potential, and I didn't care. I knew she wouldn't use anything in my memories against me. I knew she'd use every single moment of my life, not only to her advantage, but to everyone else's as well.  
  
The day I sacrificed Domino and my psi-link to bond with her, I didn't only sacrifice the trust and respect of the woman with whom I am in love, I sacrificed every possibility of love, ever. But it's been worth it. It's been worth it to share her life, to share the magnificent beauty with which she perceives life now. Her and the Phoenix, they're both…amazing.  
  
They take my breath away. I love them. They're the only family I can truly say is mine.  
  
My father is half my age, and will do anything to prove that he is superior to me. My mother…she's a psionic shell who hates the remainder of my family. Jean is…Jean. She sees me as a responsibility to take on. Nate Grey is dying from the intensity of his powers, off snogging his girlfriend, and the rest of them…I don't even want to think about it. Stryfe's dead, Tyler's dead. I have nothing left to live for but her.  
  
And I intend to do just that.   
  
She knows how much I've sacrificed for her, and she's told me so many times that she doesn't know what to do, because she loves me that much, also, but she's never had a chance to prove it to me. Given her occupation, I think that's actually a good thing.  
  
She's wasting time on Worthington, I don't know why. Maybe she loves him. No, I'd be able to see that in a second. I don't think she'd hide something like that from me. She's never blocked the link before, and I can't sense her doing it now. She wouldn't do that to me, because we're too close. We've been through too much. She trusts me.  
  
That's the only thing I want to be able to say when I die. That Chase trusted me. That she loved me. That she knew that she could depend on me through thick and thin, that she'd never have to block me out. I'd watch Jen die a thousand times to earn that trust. But I don't have to.  
  
She gave it to me. Freely.  
  
And all I had to do was sacrifice. 


	4. Phoenix Treatment Gambit P...

Gambit POV--Phoenix Treatment  
  
I have to admit, I didn't like Chase at first. At all. She was too calm, too cold, too…quiet. When she responded to my flirtations exactly the way I expected her not to, I disliked her even more strongly. She was trouble, and I knew it. I knew that little slip of a fille would grow up into a statuesque femme like this one, with hair like raven silk and skin like gilt porcelain.  
  
I like pretty things, as evidenced by the ladies of my choosing, but this was one pretty thing I didn't like. She was civil enough to me, and returned my best "heartbreaker" smiles with formidable beamers of her own. But she took my roof at night, to look up at the stars and "cleanse her soul" or some other such artisan merde. I didn't like that.   
  
So I complained to Stormy, and she told me to bugger off. Sucked. That little fille had stolen her heart, too. I thought, maybe if I shoved her into the Danger Room that she would cool off and stop invading my places. I never thought that maybe the reason she liked all the places I did was not because she was infatuated by me, or because she was annoying, but because she was just like me.  
  
Turns out she was just as pissed off with me as I was with her.  
  
She hated seeing me around every corner, at the end of every corridor, in every room she walked into. Because she and Cable were pretty thick, she hung out with Stormy a lot, too, which made it even more difficult to avoid her.  
  
Then she disappeared after the Marauders and Monsieur Sinister attacked and I didn't know what to do, how to handle it.   
  
I was used to seeing her around, and I missed her.  
  
Betsy said she'd walked away with Sabretooth. That in itself said too much.  
  
They say I hate admitting what I'm afraid of. That's true, I guess, but I think everyone pretty much knows that I'm terrified of Creed. He's the embodiment of everything I have had to struggle against since…ever. Since I was out on the streets, since I was trained by the Guild, since I was banished from New Orleans, since I roamed the world as an errant thief, since I've fought with the X-Men. He was a Marauder, he's been my Team's enemy for years, I think since even before Wolverine transferred from Alpha Flight.  
  
And she walked sweetly away with him, holding his hand.  
  
That scared me, because anyone confident enough to put themselves at Creed's mercy is either insane or extremely and terrifyingly powerful. Not even Apocalypse could kill him.  
  
I volunteered to go back for her because I felt guilty, yes, but also because I felt that she had something I needed that she'd somehow transfer to me if I went to rescue her.   
  
Yeah, it was a long shot, and it never even happened. I think the reason I attacked Scotty for bringing up the fact that Sinister had a little too much interest in me was because I wanted to see her so badly that I couldn't control myself.  
  
And it wasn't just because I wanted the power she had. I wanted to see her, period.  
  
Chase has something. Something I've never seen in a woman before. Something a little like my charm powers, but different. She has control. So much that it scared even me, le Roi du Control. Still does.  
  
And then, I suddenly found myself sleeping next to her.  
  
Granted, that was three years after the whole Sinister-Deadpool-Copycat fiasco.  
  
But it felt like just the next day.  
  
She cured my wounds, cured my angsting, I don't even like the roof any more. Wonder how she did it.  
  
I mean, she never forbade me to go up there. If anything, she went up with me and pointed out constellations. She loves Orion. The hunter. I guess that in itself says plenty about her. She never did the "talk to me" bullshit either. She was always patient, always present, always…there. Always supportive, but in a different way. She didn't pry, so that when I opened up to her, it was on my own terms.  
  
She didn't treat me like I should have been in the psych ward, even though I probably should have been during that time. I was all pissed off at Rogue because she was bed-hopping. Now, I just think, if she hurt the Wolverine as much as she hurt me, it's a wonder that man's still on his feet with no need for Chase. Maybe he just feels weird cause she's Phoenix.  
  
That must be it.  
  
There are no words for Chase's treatment. It's all…psionic. Spiritual. Epiphany.  
  
Phoenix treatment. 


	5. Evil Parasitic Entities and How to Exorc...

Chapter One: Evil Parasitic Entities and How to Exorcise Them  
  
Chase sat in the bedroom she shared with Warren Kenneth Worthington III. The Phoenix within her spoke gently, brushing against her mind like the rippling murmur of a distant brook. She communed with her inner strength, soothed it, restrained it. She couldn't help but notice the similarities between herself and the two resident feral mutants, Wolverine and WildChild—the way they all fought for dominance over some inner power that, once unleashed, threatened to engulf the human side of them.  
  
The door opened, but she neither turned nor scanned telepathically to see who it was. To tell the truth, she didn't much care. "Devoneaux?"  
  
"Yes, Bishop,"  
  
"Warren wants to leave. He's in the lawn arguing with Jean."  
  
"Where does he want to go?" her voice was expressionless.  
  
"England."  
  
"To see Mr. Braddock, undoubtedly? Why must he argue with Jean? He's his own man."  
  
"She thinks it will reverse his grieving process."  
  
"His grieving process is his own business."  
  
"You're his psychiatrist."  
  
"I'm a caregiver, yes. But I cannot dictate what he should do, where he should go."  
  
"I'd like it if you'd have a few words with him." Bishop took a few steps forward and put a heavy hand on her shoulder as it lifted in a shrug.  
  
Chase pursed her lips. Rare was the occasion at which Bishop expressed an emotion. For him to say something like that must denote an event of significance. She nodded. "I'll go down."  
  
"I'll escort you."  
  
"Certainly." She rose with the grace of youth, and turned to look into the soldier's eyes, holding them only momentarily, before falling into step with him toward the door. When they reached the front lawn, Jean was screaming at the top of her lungs at Warren, interspersing pleading with hurled imprecations of disloyalty and hysterical sobbing. Warren was standing erect with his arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes were soft-edged and looked to be on the verge of shedding tears, while his face was resolute and firm, his nostrils dilated, his jaw clenched, and his lips pressed so tightly together that they described a perfect line.  
  
Chase rushed down to Jean's side, calling for Nathan through their link.  
  
On my way, he answered, with a comforting smile.  
  
"Mrs. Summers," she whispered as she approached the frenetic woman. "Mrs. Summers, calm down, please." The moment she stepped into Jean's aura, it was like a tranquilizer to her stunned emotions, and she took the time to take two deep breaths.  
  
"Chase, you can't let him go." Her tone was still high and jittery.  
  
"I'll speak with him, Mrs. Summers, I will, and if he has a good enough reason to—" Chase cut herself off as Archangel grabbed her around the waist and launched them both into the sky. "Warren," she began in a warning tone, "If you do not put me down this instant, I am going to let Phoenix go, and I warn you, she isn't happy with you."  
  
"I'm not staying here, Chase. I'm finished grieving for Betsy, and I just want a change of pace."  
  
"I understand that," she replied, her heart falling into her shoes as she realized a fear confirmed. But instead of giving in to the sudden sting, she grinned wryly. "Are you firing me, Warren?"  
  
"No, I'm not. I think I still—forget think. I still need you."  
  
"So why are you going to England?"  
  
"I need a vacation. That's all."  
  
"Then put me down and we'll discuss it."  
  
He sighed, and let go of her. She caught herself in mid-air and floated gently down to the ground beside him. "There's nothing to discuss, Chase." He ran a hand through his perfectly groomed blond hair. "I'm going to Muir first, and then I'm going to take a holiday in Cardiff."  
  
"And why am I not invited?"  
  
Warren shrugged. "I need some time away from this shrink thing, all right?"  
  
"I suppose. I've been shadowing you for months now. But you're sure you're all right?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm great. Hey, aren't your parents in Montana? You should go visit them."  
  
"I might. They're not really interested in their schizophrenic daughter who hangs out with a bunch of outlaw superheroes, anyhow."  
  
"Well, they're taking the mutant thing in good stride, anyhow. I guess you can't expect them to keep up with everything."  
  
She was thinking about replying, "Especially since my dad still thinks it's the seventies." When Cable's voice blasted through their link.  
  
Chase, get out here!  
  
Instead of wasting time, she rose into the air and sped back toward the mansion, flying low to the treetops, noting idly that Warren was following her. When she arrived at her destination, Cable was on his knees in front of both Professor Xavier and Jean, hands clutched to his head, the pencil-thin lines at the corners of his eyes tight and screaming from his face. Chase didn't waste time assessing the situation, and slipped directly into his mind.  
  
All she saw was a barren landscape; the ground was cracked and dry, with only a few cacti springing up from the desert sands. But there was no one there, even when she shot up into the green-gray sky and peered down from her superior perspective.  
  
Nathan! She screamed psionically, panic laying a sinuous finger across her soul. Nathan Christopher Charles Summers Dayspring Askani'Son, where ARE you?  
  
My "brother" never told me he had so many names, a rough psionic voice jolted her. She wheeled around, but there was no one. Adding to her trepidation was the Phoenix calling to get out, preparing itself to fight.   
  
Nathan?  
  
No. Not really. A shadow fell over her, and she turned, holding the Phoenix within her back lest it manifest fully and damage Nathan's psionic landscape. Standing before her was her mentor and confidant, the man without whom she might still be a shivering, silent child weeping every moment for a brother she would never see again.  
  
Nathan, what's wrong? Why did you call me?  
  
Not Nathan, my dear.  
  
How do you mean, my friend? What…what is wrong? She extended a hand to him, only to find that his skin bristled gleaming metal spikes where she meant to touch him.  
  
I've been watching you, little one, the man who was, and yet was not Nathan. He loves you very much, my "brother." I cannot blame him, though. He's always gone for pretty young girls. The man laughed quietly, a disturbing sound to the young woman. She tensed for an attack, and yet was afraid, as this man wore the face of one she loved dearly.  
  
I am going to ask you once more, sir. Who are you?  
  
My name is Stryfe. Doubtless you've heard of me. Chase called upon the memories Nathan had channeled into her that day in the forest, the memories of a life on the lam, and her eyes opened wide at the sight of a man who'd made Nathan's life so hateful, yet who'd brought his greatest joy and sorrow, Tyler Dayspring, into the world.  
  
More than heard of you, she murmured.  
  
You aren't frightened of me, are you?  
  
Should I be?  
  
Of course you should be! I've been cooped up in here for far too long. Nathan has suppressed my psyche within him for long enough, and I am taking over.  
  
No, you aren't.   
  
And you're going to stop me? How droll. You know that I've killed Nathan already.  
  
What?  
  
Close to it, anyhow. He's in bad shape. Stryfe's ensuing laugh sounded suspiciously and disturbingly like a giggle. I put him through Akkaba again, only this time, he didn't win.  
  
Neither will you. Nathan reasserted himself last time, he'll do it again.  
  
No, he won't, my dear. Stryfe reached forward and stroked her hair. Such a lovely face. What a shame I must dispose of you, as well.  
  
Chase rolled her eyes, and stepped back. You know what the Phoenix is, don't you, Stryfe?  
  
Most certainly. But I do not see what Fire and Life incarnate has to do with…oh.  
  
Say oops, Stryfe. Chase manifested her sweeping fiery cloak as a quiet smile crept across her peaceful features.  
  
XXX 


	6. Interlude I Logan and Warren

Interlude I: Logan and Warren  
  
XXX  
  
She was sitting in the Japanese gardens, huddled in an oversized blue and white plaid and a pair of men's boxer shorts, presumably Wisdom's, as they had little shots printed all over them. She didn't look as though she wished to be disturbed, but he couldn't help himself. He moved forward, making sure to make enough noise that she'd realize he was there, yet not enough to disturb her evident meditation.  
  
"Why are you lurking in the shadows?" her voice, weaker than usual, called out.  
  
"I was about ta ask ya the same thing yerself."  
  
"I'm not lurking. Well, not lurking per se. You obviously wanted to be noticed back there, and I can't help but realize how attached the Phoenix is to you."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes," Chase smiled gently, and patted the bench beside her. "Sit with me? She wants comfort, and for some reason, she identifies comfort with you."  
  
"Jeannie always did like me fer a cryin' shoulder."  
  
"I'm not going to cry. I just want to talk."  
  
"All right. If ya promise not ta get all sloppy on my new shirt."  
  
"That's a new shirt?" she grinned wryly. "It looks just like the ones you always wear."  
  
"Well, ain't we observant?" Logan pursed his thick lips gently as he eased himself down beside the tiny girl. Not girl. Woman. His mind corrected him. And what a woman she had become. She was still at least an inch shorter than him, and weighed a good ninety pounds less than he. And still, the manner with which she held herself demanded notice. She exuded power.  
  
"You heard about the little tiff Nathan and I had with Stryfe today, didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah. Cyke told me about it." Logan expected the Phoenix to flare up behind her eyes as it usually did at the mention of its former lover. But there was nothing.  
  
"You're rather close with him, aren't you?"  
  
"Close? I wouldn't say so. We competed fer years fer Jeannie."  
  
"Yes," a kind of very odd, simpering smile touched her lips.  
  
"Reservoir," Logan began.  
  
"Chase." She corrected. "Call me Chase. You're always calling me either Reservoir or Rift, and then sometimes Phoenix, which pleases Her, but pisses me off something horrid."  
  
"Chase, then. I got…kind o' a personal question. Do ya mind?"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"Do ya…what're yer…how does Phoenix feel about Jeannie's relationship with Scott?"  
  
"She feels…resigned."  
  
"But she still loves him?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Don't that affect you?"  
  
"I suppose in ways I share her feelings for the man. How could one know someone so dedicated, so strong and so tender, so passionate and so distant, without at least admiring him? I know his faults and weaknesses, but I see how well his strengths balance them out."  
  
"So ya love him?"  
  
She looked down. "I'm not sure whether I should answer that. It might ruin my relationship with his son."  
  
"I thought ya both agreed ta shut down the link until he's had his surgery."  
  
"It's shut down. Partially. I promised him when we bonded that I'd never completely withdraw from his mind. That I'd remain there, however spectral, constantly. I'll answer your question. I love Scott in ways I shouldn't yet know of. There are years of pining within the Phoenix. She loves him. And you."  
  
"Me?" startled, Logan made a move to stand, but Chase laid a cool hand on his brawny forearm.  
  
"Don't be frightened. That wasn't a proposition. And even if it was, I know your feelings along those lines now." She joked, pouting her full, naked lips out in a wry moue. "Being an honorary member of the Summers clan isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure, the health plan is great, and I'm sure there are numerous revivifications, but there's so much uncertainty. You're involved, too, whether you like it or not."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Domino hates me, you know?" Chase murmured suddenly, in an evident bid to change the subject. Logan allowed her to. "The way she sees it, I took Nathan away from her. She thinks that somewhere in my subconscious, I'm in love with him, and that, as a man, he will constantly search for a prettier, younger face. She's so wrong, I wish she could see it. Or better yet, I wish I were dead."  
  
"Why do ya say that?"  
  
"Because." She shrugged. "So long as I'm alive, there's a wedge between them. To tear myself away from Nathan would kill both of us, and possibly injure both Jean and Domino's astral consciousnesses. If I were to die, the link would fade out naturally, and there would be no harm, no foul. Or at least, I wouldn't have to deal with all this madness."  
  
"Ya shouldn't by any rights be here, kiddo. I'm sorry ya got involved."  
  
"It wasn't your fault. It was mine. And my stupid brother's, for dying in the first place. If he were still alive, I might be something nice and normal, like a receptive empath, entirely uninvolved with the Summers family, and not wanting some man I'll never have. God, if Nathan were hearing me now, he'd be so angry."  
  
"You two have a bond. That's stronger than a link. Don't that mean ya share emotions?"  
  
"Yes. I see what you're getting at. You think that I may merely be experiencing emotional backwash for his father. But unless Nathan has some VERY dodgy sexual tendencies that no one knows about, I'm getting these feelings from Phoenix."  
  
"I didn't mean that, but there's a base covered, too. I meant that don't ya think he'd know about this already?"  
  
"No, I don't think so. I share MYSELF with Nathan, but not the Phoenix. He doesn't know her very well. He doesn't trust her entirely. He trusts me. Interesting, isn't that? Some genetically mindblind flatscan he trusts, but the most powerful cosmic entity in the history of the universe he doesn't much care for."  
  
"An' the point is?"  
  
"How loyal he remains."  
  
"Yeah. I guess."  
  
Suddenly, Chase made an odd sort of choking noise, and turned away from Logan with a curse.   
  
"What's wrong, darlin'?"  
  
"You'd better go."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I promised I wouldn't cry, and She just showed me something about you that's going to make me lose a little bit of control. So you'd better leave."  
  
"What'd She show ya, darlin'?" Logan was suddenly concerned. Perhaps it was a gruesome battle scene, or a vision of the haunting, albeit brief love he'd shared on occasion with Jean.  
  
"Nothing to worry about. It reflects very positively on you," she sniffled, and stood up. "If you're not going, I am."  
  
"Hey, it's just a little promise. C'mon, darlin'. It's all right," he held out a hand, and she grasped it, almost convulsively. That scared him. For all the years he'd known her, albeit from a distance, he'd always observed her to be the very paragon of control. And yet now, that very same virtue was slipping like the ebbing tide from between her fingers. He drew her into a hug, and she clutched at his chest like a drowning thing, her silent tears slowly soaking through his shirt, spreading moist chill over his skin like a mist over a freshly-bedewed field. "Hey, darlin', let it out."  
  
She looked up suddenly into his eyes, and put her fingers over his lips. "You're a wonderful man, Logan. Thank you." Then, disengaging herself rapidly from his gentle embrace, she disappeared into the deepening shadows.  
  
"What the hell was that?"  
  
XXX  
  
A Few Moments Earlier…  
  
Warren swooped down to the entrance of the Japanese Gardens. Gambit had said Chase might be found there. Nathan was undergoing emergency psionic surgery after the hotly-pitched battle on his mindscape, where Reservoir had been forced to utilize extremely brutal methods of self-defense. Stryfe had been expunged, but Cable was seriously injured.  
  
No one except for perhaps Jean blamed the girl for taking such drastic measures to save Nathan, but no one appreciated the risks she had taken. As anxious as he was to close a certain U.K'-based business deal, Warren had to see her. He knew precisely where she'd be, at her favorite bench…  
  
Warren landed gently on the balls of his feet so as not to make a sound. He hoped to spring out of the bushes and surprise her. Incidentally, he also made sure he was downwind of her, as she could recognize his aftershave lotion from a mile away.  
  
As he came into eyeshot of the bench, he gasped in horror. Chase, HIS Chase, was wrapped securely in a protective embrace, and that embrace belonged to none other than…"Wolverine," Warren growled low in his throat. He watched the woman he loved sob into his customary enemy's chest, watched his hands run down her back, that beautiful back he worshipped with every pore in his being, watched her eyes meet his as her fingers touched his lips, saw the soulful looks exchanged, heard her whispered words to him.  
  
Backpedaling, Warren reached the Mansion on foot, but once there, he pushed himself off the ground and took to the skies, spiraling higher and higher until he could no longer be seen by those on terra firma.  
  
XXX 


	7. Chasing Wisdom

Chasing Wisdom  
  
XXX  
  
She wasn't scared—not very, anyhow. The slim British spy across from her smiled thinly, but she'd be damned if all the training she'd had was going to go to waste in a few moments.   
  
"So, sweet'art, make yeh move," Pete Wisdom muttered.  
  
Chase lifted her hand, ever so slowly, lifted her Rook, and put Wisdom in Checkmate. She didn't have to call it, the surprise in his ever-so-slightly widened eyes showed his consternation.  
  
"Well, I'll be damned if yer 'aven't won th' game, luv."  
  
She nodded solemnly. "I suppose I have. You don't have anywhere to go where I couldn't kill you."  
  
"Yeh." He exhaled, grabbed a cigarette, and lit it with a discreet hot-knife from his fingertip. "So, yer gonna tell me wot exactly went on between yer an' Wolverine?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not? Don't yer trust me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, I guess them two months was wasted then. I might as well start drinkin' again."  
  
"No."  
  
"Wot th' 'ell……yeh know, if yer never talk, people ain't gonna like yer much, Chase."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, wot's got Archangel's panties in a twist?"  
  
"I have no idea. But I don't have any time to find out. He's gone, and my priority at this moment is Nathan."  
  
Wisdom snorted. "Yeh really do love the big lug, don't yer?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I 'ear yeh thinkin' o' takin' a vacation?"  
  
"Maybe. I don't think it's really feasible. I mean, Nathan's in the hospital, Warren's in conflict with himself AND me, and Jean's going insane. What am I going to do? I have a responsibility as the host of the Phoenix Force to do SOMETHING, I just don't……damn. If only life were as simple as a game of chess," she picked up one of her knights and sighed at it. "Life sucks."  
  
"Now yer just soundin' like a petulant kid."  
  
"I don't want to go through university. Damn degree. It's all formality, really. The Phoenix knows all and is all."  
  
"Fire'n Life incarnate'n all 'at rot."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Looks like even th' most powerful cosmic force in th' known universe needs a refresher course every now an' then, huh?"  
  
"I guess. But you see, I'm only eighteen, whereas she is ageless. She's one of the major events in my life, and I'm only a passing host."  
  
"Ain't wot th' Prof seems ter think."  
  
"Look, I KNOW the Phoenix has never actually possessed a human before, she's only taken their places, yada, yada, yada. It could be different, who knows? She could keep me young for however the hell long she wants, but the point is, even SHE doesn't know what to do."  
  
"Sucks."  
  
"It does,"  
  
They lapsed into silence for another few moments. "Yer know, I actually 'ave ter go down ter Boston fer a lil' check, wot about yer come with?"  
  
"I've tagged along so many times in my life, are you asking me to do it again?"  
  
"Yeh. On'y, yer won't be taggin' along so much as doin' patient follow-up, makin' sure I ain't givin' in ter temptation an' all 'at."  
  
"Oh. Now that you've phrased it so ably, I suppose I'll have to accompany you. What precisely does the trip entail?"  
  
"Sod off, Phoenix, I'm talkin' with Chase, 'ere!"  
  
"My apologies," Chase blinked, "Hey, I LET her take over."  
  
"I don't like talkin' with 'er as much as with yer. No offense an' I don't mean ter put yer in conflict with yerself. I like yer both good an' well, she jus' makes me antsy's all."  
  
"Perfectly understandable, Wisdom. So, let's do this, huh? Maybe I'll find some nice, harmless boy to go out with in Boston, what do you think?"  
  
"I doubt it. There ain't nothin' close ter nice an' safe down there." Wisdom grinned. "Yer want th' Mid-west, yer do."  
  
"Oh. That's right." She shrugged. "Of course, there was that sweet farm-boy back in Montana……"  
  
"Don't even THINK about it. Yer know Worthington's gorrit in for yer."  
  
"And what if I don't have it in for HIM?"  
  
"Well, yer gonna haveter lettim down easy, I guess."  
  
"How do you let a man down easily when the only thing you can give him is yourself? Nothing more? And he already HAS me, but he doesn't. I guess…I just need to…sacrifice myself and…be there for him. In the way he wants me to."  
  
"Now THAT'S just sick, it is. Luv, when're yer gonna quit sacrificin' yerself on th' altar o' hostdom an' live a lil' fer yerself?"  
  
"There's no one I want, so I might as well make someone who wants ME happy."  
  
"'Ow do yer figure 'at?"  
  
"Not sure." She sighed. "If you'd have made a move on me while I was treating you, I'm pretty sure I would've gone for it."  
  
"You were jailbait."  
  
"That's right,"  
  
"An' even now, yer too young fer me."  
  
"You're even younger than Warren, you know?"  
  
"Yeh. I know." He sighed. "If on'y Kit'd quit yammerin' about 'er marriage ter that sod Madrox, I'd be less easy right now. But as is, I'm ready ter jump even Jubilee's bones."  
  
"Do that and you'd be dead before dessert."  
  
"Ferget dessert, I'd BE the main course!" Wisdom joked darkly. "Oh, 'ell, now there's a form o' suicide I 'AVEN'T contemplated yet."  
  
"Simple and best," Chase laughed quietly. "Wolverine's been avoiding me," she added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
"'E didn't want ter 'urt Worthington."  
  
"They were both close with Betsy."  
  
"Wot th' 'ell, so was yer."  
  
"Yes, but……"  
  
"No fuckin' buts, luv. She believed in yer, with Nate, when yeh was tryin' ter pitch yerself out o' th' rot window."  
  
It was Chase's turn to smile. "Yeah. That was silly, wasn't it?"  
  
"Scared th' livin' fuck outta me."  
  
"Sorry about that. But hey! I didn't even know you at the time!"  
  
"Yeh, I guess we wasn't acquainted, but I was around."  
  
"I know THAT."  
  
"Yeh, an' jest seein' a kid like yer about ter kill 'erself, an' 'avin' more reason than most ter go through……THAT'S wot scared me."  
  
"It's good that you're sharing your feelings, even if it IS about three years too late."  
  
"Oh, bugger off, Chase. Get off yer 'igh 'orse an' live a lil'." Wisdom suddenly leapt to his feet, stabbing a finger into the air. "Yer too fuckin' scared ter even consider anythin' but a safe, sacrificial relationship with Worthington, which ye'll hate, I know yer well enough ter know, an' which'll make the poor sod as guilty as 'ell! Wot're yeh makin' o' yer life, gel?" he finished quietly, sinking back into his seat powerlessly.  
  
"Oh, as if you cared as much!"  
  
"Damn straight I care. Why th' 'ell wouldn't I? Yer the only woman left in my life now 'at Romany's gone homicidal bitch an' Pryde's dizzy about 'er upcomin' nuptials. Yer……yeh know wot yer are ter me."  
  
"Say it, Wisdom," a smile curved her lips.  
  
"Yer me……yer me best mate."  
  
"Yeah, I am!" she laughed. "And as I am your best mate, you wanna sneak me a beer or two?"  
  
"Bloody 'ell. In a 'ouse fulla 'paths? Norra chance!"  
  
"I'll shield you."  
  
"Yeh won't drink a whole bottle any'ow, an' this American stuff's just pure piss, it is."  
  
"You're right." She sighed. "So, about Boston. How soon are you leaving?"  
  
"Yer comin' with?"  
  
"No, I don't think so. It'd be misconstrued as running away from something, and be it Warren or Nate's psionic complications, I don't want anyone to think I'm gonna bolt at the least possible strain, as much as I want to. I'm gonna stick it out."  
  
"Fine, BE a masochist, luv. But I can say I kidnapped yer."  
  
"And THEN where would that land you in the X-Circle?"  
  
"Yer right. I guess I'll see yer in a few days, coz me flight leaves at two this mornin'."  
  
"Oh, fuck. I was hoping to have another night with you."  
  
"Want ter jump me senseless, do yer?" he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"Yeah, that's what I want." Her tone dripped sarcasm. "No, it's just that I wanted you to post something for me……from an out-of-state location."  
  
"Ter where?"  
  
"My parents. In Montana."  
  
"Why from out-of-state? Don't they……oh, fuckin' hell, Chase, don't tell me……"  
  
"Quit whining, Pete. No, they don't know I'm still at Xavier's. I told them that that mission down in Florida was a three-month vacation, and they still think I'm down there. So if you posted it from Boston, it would look like I was just dragging my heels out of Florida, that maybe I had a job and an apartment."  
  
"Why d'yer 'ave ter dance 'round yer parents like this? Why can't yer just tellem the truth?"  
  
"Because, they've been good enough about never seeing me and my being inhabited by an extremely powerful, mildly psychopathic cosmic force. They should think I've left the 'nest' and that I'm living a nominally ordinary life, you know?"  
  
"Yeh. I guess. Sure as 'ell wouldn't want me old man ter know wot me an' Romany're up to these days."  
  
"Doesn't he know you're Intel?"  
  
"'E thinks I quit in every way, shape, an' form. Much as th' ol' wanker 'ates me guts, he can still see me mum in me, how I don't know. Mus' be th' goatee." Chase rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder. "But yeh, if 'e knew I was still fucking about with giant metallic guns an' bad dudes with names like Pucker-lips, it'd go right to 'is poor daft 'ead, it would."  
  
Chase but her lower lip. "Lying sucks, though. I'd like nothing more at this point than to be some farm-wife with an abusive, alcoholic husband and four kids at this point. The stress is easier to deal with than this."  
  
"I s'pose. Though I've never really thought o' 'avin' a man beat me arse, yer know?"  
  
"You sicko." She rolled her eyes.  
  
"An' yer love me for it."  
  
"Yeah, I do. But listen, will you post the letter for me?"  
  
"O' course. Jus' give it ter me, luv."  
  
"You're leaving for the airport at midnight?"  
  
"Stroke o' twelve, luv."  
  
"All right. I'll get it to you before then."  
  
"Cheers."  
  
XXX 


	8. The Messiah and Redd

The Messiah and Redd  
  
XXX  
  
"N. . .Nathan?"  
  
"Chase," a smile spread across Cable's features, softening his mouth and the craggy lines which made him look as though his face had been cut out of marble. "Ya want to be a little gentler next time you decide to let the Phoenix out on my Mindscape?"  
  
"I'll try, but I can't promise anything." She leant down, her features strained and her emotions tugging at the leash. *I will NOT cry,* she promised herself, taking one of his giant hands in both of hers and passing her fingers over his deeply-lined palm.  
  
"Well," Nathan coughed roughly. "I come back from the dead after hours of psionic surgery and all I get is an 'I'll try?'"  
  
"What did you want?"  
  
"Maybe a welcome home kiss." He made a huge effort to pout, and was rewarded with a smile. She brought his hand to her mouth gently, fingers wrapping tightly around his sinewy forearm.  
  
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to let that one last bomb go, it was supposed to be an intimidation device. I thought he'd go before I had to stomp on your mindscape like that."  
  
"That was you?" he lifted a snowy brow. "I thought it was a pack of elephants."  
  
"Damn you, Nathan. What prompted that? Stryfe's been latent for years, and I never thought he could come back so strongly."  
  
"Why are you changing the flonqing subject?" he demanded, his voice going up an octave.  
  
"Because I can. And because I don't want to discuss how it was me who put you in here."  
  
"It wasn't you, Chase."  
  
"Yes, it was."  
  
"I'm not going to argue with you like this. It's what destroyed my relationship with Dom, and I won't have the same thing happening with you."  
  
She shut up instantly.  
  
"Though I in no way see you as a romantic interest," he added, with a familiar wry grin, "I want us to work. You know what I mean."  
  
"Yeah, I do." She sighed, and nudged his arm. "Shove over," she instructed, and he scooted as far to the edge of the narrow MedLab bed as he could, and she carefully lowered herself into it beside him, resting her head in the curve of his chest and shoulder. "I missed you. I missed the link."  
  
I hate it when you shut it down, even partially, he whispered.  
  
"Hey, don't do that, Nathan!" she slapped his chest. "You should rest your telepathy for now, even if it IS facilitated by the link."  
  
"You're right. But I hate feeling incapacitated."  
  
"You're six foot eight, you can bench-press five hundred pounds! You're NOT incapacitated."  
  
"Then why is Hank insisting that I stay in the Medical Bay?"  
  
"To make sure you don't manifest any evil tendencies. You're getting out tomorrow; don't be so petulant."  
  
He shrugged, flattened her hand against his, measuring their fingers against one another. "So little."  
  
"Who isn't, to you?" she growled irritably.  
  
"I hear Wisdom's mailing a letter to your parents from Boston."  
  
"Don't start that."  
  
"You know, we have to communicate. It's a central pillar of maintaining a healthy friendship."  
  
"You read that in Scott's Magic of Marriage book, didn't you?"  
  
"Guilty. But don't change the subject. Why won't you get in contact with them?"  
  
"You're my family now, Nate. I don't want them to have to be involved more than they need to be."  
  
"Why not? They love you. You're their only child now, and you have a responsibility to them to keep in touch."  
  
"I'm keeping in touch!"  
  
"What are you telling them? That you're going to a junior college in Boston? Or perhaps you've excelled and are attending Harvard?"  
  
"I WILL be attending Harvard, if all goes well."  
  
"Don't. Xavier's has a more student-centered staff, and the training is just as good. Besides, Harvard doesn't prepare you for life as an ostracized mutant."  
  
"That's right. I'd forgotten that you hated the Ivy League and all it stands for."  
  
"I attended it."  
  
"You're a brilliant lawyer."   
  
"True, but I'm also a telepath."  
  
"And it looks good to have Harvard on your résumé. But it isn't as though I'm going to waste my life doing something other than protecting the Universe." She shrugged. "Remember? My classifieds reads: Chase Devoneaux, human, legal, beautiful and plucky. Comes with Intergalactic Cosmic Fighting Force. Not sold separately. Remember that?"  
  
"Yeah, but. . .lying to your parents. . ."  
  
"It isn't as though YOU never did that at one point or another."  
  
Nathan rolled his eyes. "That's different."  
  
"Because you're older than Scott and Jean? And you know better? I can just HEAR the lecture. 'Now, listen, Scott Summers. I don't want you speaking to me in that tone of voice! I'm your son from three thousand years in the future, and I know what's best!'"  
  
"I actually DID say that to him. . .not in that precise context, but it was pretty similar."  
  
"You bastard!" she laughed and squeezed his ribs, at which moment Jean decided to walk in. Seeing her "son" in the hospital bed with his young protégée, she cast her eyes down and cleared her throat as though they hadn't noticed her.  
  
"Hello, Nathan, hello, Chase."  
  
"Redd,"  
  
"Mrs. Summers," Chase nodded, color rising to her cheeks, and wishing she could disappear behind Nathan's giant metal arm.  
  
"How are you feeling, Nathan?" Jean checked his pulse, prodded his psi-signature for signs of possible post-surgery trauma. Finding none, she nodded. "Warren's gone, I understand?"  
  
"No, not exactly."  
  
"So he's staying?"  
  
"No, he's going to leave before the weekend is out."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"He's a financial mogul, Mrs. Summers. . ."  
  
"Jean." The woman said shortly. "My name is Jean, but you never call me by my first name. I'm not your teacher anymore, Chase. It's all right to call me that."  
  
"He's not running away from you, Jean." Chase said quietly.  
  
"No, he's running away from YOU."  
  
Chase slipped away from Nathan and took Jean's arm gently. "We should talk about this privately. Will you excuse us, Nate?"  
  
"Sure," he muttered, then sent a brief message over the link, suggesting she shut down it down partially.  
  
No, that's all right. I only need the physical privacy.  
  
I'd feel as though I were eavesdropping, he shrugged. I think we should shut it down.  
  
All right. But not too much. I want to feel you. she brushed a telekinetic hand against his. He smiled as she left the room.   
  
"What's going on between you and Warren?" Jean planted her hands on her hips and faced the younger woman head-on.  
  
"I'm his caretaker. His psychological support. I'm trying to help him get over Betsy's loss, which we both felt very deeply."  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
"Yes. On my side, anyhow."  
  
"Then if he took it into his head to fall in love with you, you'd push him away, wouldn't you?"  
  
"It would only be professional to do so."  
  
"That would be where you're wrong. The X-Men aren't a professional taskforce. We're a family. And I've known Warren for over fifteen years. He and I were two of the Original Five X-Men. We're extremely close. There have been hundreds of mutants to pass through Xavier's but none, I repeat NONE have the experience and respect for the X that we do. And none of them are closer-knit than we are."  
  
"I understand that you must be concerned about Warren, but I assure you, I have no improper intentions toward him."  
  
"You're not getting the point, are you? I don't want you to be cool and professional with him! Do you think HE feels cool and professional around YOU? No! He loves you, Chase!"  
  
"I love him, as well. We've gotten to be very close friends during these past few months."  
  
"Not that. I mean he LOVES you."  
  
"That's impossible," Chase laughed. "He's still in love with Betsy's ghost."  
  
"He got over Betsy a long time ago, Chase. And when the fog cleared, you were the only woman standing in front of him. He wants you. Only you."  
  
"I can't. . .it's not within my power to gratify that. . ." she stammered, and though it was scarcely news to her, the shock of hearing the confirmation of Warren's feelings from, of all people, the original Phoenix, made her step back and assess her own outlook on the winged man who called himself an Angel.  
  
There was a long, awkward silence in which neither woman wished to interpose on the moment lest the other had something of significance to say. Then Jean sighed, and touched Chase's shoulder. "Listen, I don't completely understand your relationship with my son, but if he's the one you love, I don't want that to hurt Warren."  
  
"Is THAT what you think I'm doing with Nathan?" Chase laughed. "I thought you were a telepath, too! Dear God, no! He's in love with Domino. He probably always will be. There's no romantic attraction between us whatsoever. We're friends. Bonded. Rather like. . .you and Wolverine." She nodded. "Yes, like you and Logan. Perhaps there was once something I wanted, but he's always been in love with one person."  
  
Jean sighed. "And how does that fit in with your feelings for Scott?"  
  
Chase took a step backward, something not-quite-human igniting a dangerous fire behind her eyes. "Who told you?"  
  
"You psi-signature flares up every time you see him, or every time he's mentioned. Remember in Ireland, when Banshee knocked him out and you decked him?"  
  
The high color racing to the younger woman's cheeks betrayed her.  
  
"It's all right. I married him, after all, so I know how wonderful a man he is. Besides, the feelings you have aren't even yours, by all accounts. They're mine. And even if they weren't, Scott is an attractive, wonderful man. Seems to attract more female telepaths than most, but still. . ."  
  
"Listen, Jean, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be. . ."  
  
"Chase, that doesn't matter. You've taken those emotions so well that I've learned to control myself, also. We're really very similar, you know."  
  
"No, we aren't." Chase smiled. "No offense, Mrs. Sum—Jean—but we aren't at all alike. We've had shockingly similar experiences, but we've handled ourselves quite differently."  
  
"Well, you haven't committed suicide yet. . ."  
  
"That's not what I meant. Besides, that wasn't you, that was the thing in my head. No offense."   
  
"None taken. I still think you should talk with Warren."  
  
"You didn't say that was what you wanted."  
  
"Wasn't it? I thought I'd made myself clear."  
  
"I seemed to think you wanted me to take up with him, regardless of my own feelings."  
  
"What kind of woman do you think I am?" Jean pressed a hand to her chest, her brows knitting. "Why should I ask you to do that?"  
  
"That's not. . .all right, I think I understand you, now."  
  
Jean laughed nervously, sighed. "I think you should go back inside. I'll see you later."  
  
"No, Nathan's all right. We've talked for long enough. I think I'll go find Warren just now."  
  
"I guess I'll catch you later, then?"  
  
"All right." Chase nodded, walked out of the room, but not before bringing the psi-bond fully to life, sudden intimacy flaring up between herself and Nathan. I'm going to go find Warren."  
  
All right? Do you want me to. . .  
  
No. Of course not!  
  
All right, I just thought. . .  
  
No, if anything, I'm going to need you more than usual.  
  
All right. But I won't actively listen in.  
  
Whatever you like.  
  
I love you, Chase.  
  
She blinked, did a double-take. Rare was the occasion that Nathan declared so willingly his feelings, though he lavished frequent signs of affection on those he loved. I. . .I love you, too, Nathan.  
  
He smiled and the bond dwindled to normal once again. She paced down the hall quickly, cursing her sensible shoes and the way they tapped on the polished floors every time she took a step. Stepping into the elevator, she selected the dorm floor. As the polished chrome doors slid open, she ambled toward her room. Warren was on their bed, laying on his stomach, wings outstretched above himself. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. Chase slipped off her shoes and eased herself down beside him. 


	9. Meeting the Garrons

Meeting the Garrons  
  
XXX  
  
"How are you feeling, Warren?" his eyes flicked toward hers, then back to his hands.  
  
"Are you asking out of common courtesy or do you really want to know?"  
  
"I really want to know," she scooted closer to him. "You know you can tell me the truth."  
  
"Then if I tell you, I can expect a truthful reply to my questions?"  
  
"Of course. Especially if it's 'What the hell were you doing in the Japanese Gardens with Wolverine?'"  
  
"It isn't right to go into my mind like that whenever you like, Chase." He muttered.  
  
"I didn't. You're just about as easy to read as a book, War." She took his hand in hers, turned it palm-upward, and stroked her cool, pale fingers across it soothingly.  
  
"I just. . .I know nothing was HAPPENING, but I just. . .why couldn't you have come to me?"  
  
"Because Logan wanted to know what was going on, and instead of indulging myself, I was indulging the Phoenix for once."  
  
"I see." He lowered his eyes. "What did you talk about?"  
  
"About Nathan, mostly."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And that's all. I was worried about him, I felt guilty for rampaging across his mindscape like that. He let me bleed out some of my frustrations, that's all."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"You said yourself that you know that nothing's HAPPENING between Logan and I. Nothing ever will. He's just. . .not my type."  
  
"If he came on to you, would you. . .ah . . ."  
  
"Of course not! Warren, where do you get off?!" she demanded, sitting up and pushing him away. "You asshole! What's your problem? What, so insecure that. . .look. Never mind."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I. . .I understand you may feel a certain way toward me. . ."  
  
"Look, it's nothing, Chase. Just infatuation. It'll go away. I'm just. . .on edge. Like I said, I need to get away."  
  
"I know. God, first Wisdom, then you, huh?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'll miss you," she returned to her customary position, cradled in his arms. "So much. You're. . .you're very important to me, Warren."  
  
"All right." He shrugged. "I suppose I can get through a couple weeks without you." He laughed. "What the hell! Tell you what, Chase, I'll find a pretty English girl to fall in love with, okay?"  
  
"Sounds healthy. But don't force yourself, and don't just hook up because she reminds you of Betsy, all right?"  
  
"Spoken like a true therapist." He nodded solemnly.  
  
"I'll miss you,"  
  
"You just said that."  
  
"I'm saying it again, because I mean it."  
  
"You're cheapening your own words through repetition." He shrugged, leaned in to smell her hair. "But I'll miss you, too."  
  
"Hrm. What exactly are you going to do in England, anyhow?"  
  
"I'm a financial mogul, Chase. I have business."  
  
"Yeah. This sucks. What am I going to do without you?"  
  
"How flattering. Once I've found a purpose in life, you've lost yours. It's almost as though you need me to get on with yourself."  
  
"In a manner of speaking," she shrugged. "Look, Warren. . .I don't want things to seal up between us. It's a good thing that you're detaching yourself from me because I'm an emotional crutch. But on the other hand, I don't want. . .God, this is going to sound so bourgeois. I don't want to lose you."  
  
He grinned and took her hand in his, their palms flat against each other. "You won't. I promise." Detaching himself from her, he stood up and grabbed a towel, heading for the bathroom. "Look, my flight's this evening. I guess I'll see you in two weeks or so."  
  
"Yeah. Two weeks or so." She stood up, and grabbed him by the collar.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I. . .I love you, Warren." She pressed her lips fiercely to his, and buried her face in his shoulder before he could react. "Just be careful."   
  
"I will." He grinned lopsidedly, and she fell away from him. They didn't see one another again before he left.  
  
XXX  
  
"Smells like Boston in summer," quipped Wisdom dubiously, squinting at his companion.  
  
"It IS Boston in summer, y' stupid Brit." Gambit hissed, taking a long drag off his cigarette.  
  
"Hand me that fag, will yer?" Wisdom reached for the cancer-stick, but the Cajun batted him away.   
  
"Y' touch me un mo' time, I'll tear yo' face off, mon ami. Can' b'lieve Scooter sent me on dis mission wit' y'."  
  
"Neither can I. Now look, stand still, I've gorra send a letter fer Chase."  
  
"Why can' de pétite fille sen' 'er own mail? Dis is 'umiliatin'. Look at dose hommes, dey be tryin' t' pick Remy up, jes' cause 'e's wit' some chainsmokin' bastard Brit."  
  
"Look, the postman's comin', I'd better get the package inter th' box before 'e clears it out." Wisdom hurried toward the box, and slipped the bulky letter into the mail-slot before the truck made it down the street. "C'mon, this is ridiculous. We'd better get on our way." He narrowed his eyes at LeBeau. "I need a drink."  
  
"No, we're goin' t' meet dis homme whedder y' like it or not."  
  
"They say he's only eighteen. He won't 'ave a decanter of scotch in 'is office, an' I need scotch ter stay lucid, LeBeau."  
  
"Shut up an' let's get movin'." The two men hopped into Gambit's sleek red Porsche and zoomed off toward the centre of town, to an ominous skyscraper with the words "Garron International/Ward Law Firm" engraved on a plaque. "Dis homme be on'y eighteen an' 'e's already passed de bar? An' owns 'is own firm?"  
  
"Yeh, 'e's somethin' of a miracle-genius or somesuch nonsense. Come on, let's just get this over with." Wisdom pushed past his partner and into the building, where they took the elevator up to the 23rd floor. The young man in the lounge was talking simultaneously on two phones, but as they entered, he glanced up and raised a brow.  
  
"Are you lost?" he inquired curtly, in a posh northeastern accent.  
  
"We're 'ere ter see Ward Garron. I'm Pete Wisdom, an' this is Remy LeBeau." The Brit muttered, yanking the cigarette from between Remy's lips and taking a drag before he stubbed it out and placed it in an ashtray.  
  
"I'm sorry, your appointment was pushed back to three-thirty. Weren't you notified?"  
  
"Lissen, homme, we be 'ere on behalf of Xavier's Institute fo' Higher Learning. Why don' y' tell dat t' yo' employer an' send us some café au lait, hein?" Gambit cut in smoothly, his eyes narrowing behind his Ray-Bans.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Garron is in a meeting with his parents. I'm afraid you'll have to wait another half-hour." The clerk muttered crisply, pointedly ignoring the scathing looks Wisdom was none too subtly shooting him.  
  
"We'll wait, den, but I'd be much obliged if y'd jest inform 'im of our presence." Gambit turned toward the waiting area, then stopped, and retraced his steps. "An' hurry up wit dat café au lait." Wisdom trailed him to the lounge and poked him as they sat.  
  
"What the fuck wuzzat you inbred Cajun bastard?!"  
  
"Dat was called intimidation, as if y'd never done any o' dat back in Black Air." The redheaded bio-kinetic bomb eased back into an easy chair and grinned slyly at Wisdom. "I'll give dis homme," he nodded toward the receptionist, "two minutes, tops."  
  
"Before?"  
  
"Befo'e 'e cracks an' goes t' get Garron."  
  
"An' wot makes yer think 'e will?"  
  
"Xavier's un of de forefront political activists on mutan' rights in de worl', Wisdom. Don' y' watch de news?"  
  
"An' wot's this got ter do wif this lad, Garron?"  
  
"Did y' not read de briefin' on dis mission?" Remy threw his hands up in frustration. "Bot' Ward an' Shields Garron be mutants. An' dey need representation, mon ami. Fast."  
  
"In't this a law firm? They can represent themselves."  
  
"Not in a political arena." LeBeau shrugged. "Look, 'e may be un of de most famous lawyers dis side o' Beantown, but dat ain' gonna be recognized in an International Court. An' since y' obviously 'ave no idea what dey be goin' t' court for, I'll tell y'." he took a breath, gearing up to supply Wisdom with all the information he neglected to read over before they went out into the field, when a woman strode up to them. She was in her late thirties, leggy, blonde, and had obviously gone in for more than her share of botox injections.  
  
"Mr. Wisdom, Mr. LeBeau, Mr. Garron will see you now."  
  
"Merci," Remy stood smoothly, shooting an I-told-you-so look at his partner. The two men followed the secretary into a plush office where a young man was embracing two women.  
  
"I'll see you later, mum." He said to one, then turned and hugged the other warmly. "Love you, mum." Wisdom's jaw dropped, and LeBeau's eyes sparkled.  
  
The two women turned, and smiled politely at their son's visitors before leaving silently. Wisdom and LeBeau turned toward the remaining man. "Ward Garron," he smiled, extending a hand to both of them. Instantly, and out of long habit, the two X-Men studied their subject momentarily.  
  
Ward Garron was a couple inches shy of six feet, but he was built like a swimmer, with powerful shoulders and a narrow torso and legs, which made him seem taller at a distance. His skin was very pale and his hair very black, worn combed back in a manner that seemed inconstant with the boyish, prepossessing features the youth had. His eyes, oddly mismatched, the left blue and the other black, were wide, sitting beneath a wide, innocent brow. His nose was long and slim, irregular, but charming. His jaw seemed not to have lost the roundness of youth, but looked to soon turn toward sharpness. His lips, full and dark red, gave him the general appearance of beauty, but when he smiled, they thinned into an expression that was nearly savage.  
  
As the three men sat, Ward offered them scotch, which Wisdom eagerly accepted. "I apologize," he began, "for the delay. That was my mother, Malice Garron, and her sister, Lel Garron. They both raised me, and have nearly synonymous roles in my upbringing."  
  
"Dat's understandable," Gambit said quietly, suddenly subdued.  
  
"For th' first order o' business," Wisdom picked the ball up quickly, "Why don't yer explain t' us why yer require Xavier's support in this venture o' yers?"  
  
"Indeed." Garron looked at the both of them incisively. "I've no doubt that you've been informed that I am an adopted child. I've grown up knowing it, and it's never really meant anything to me. In fact, I was always the pampered one, as opposed to my elder brother, Shields, whom I've no doubt you'll meet some time today. The thing is, I've only recently discovered that members of my biological family are still living, and to get hold of my papers, that is, to know who my parents are, and to know my original name, I must register as a mutant, which would put myself as well as my firm in jeopardy."  
  
"An' how can Xavier's help yer?" Wisdom leant back and steepled his fingers.  
  
"Xavier is at the forefront of mutant rights activism. If I could somehow become involved in your organization, and if he were a part of my representation in an International Court, perhaps the blow to my reputation would be softened." Remy's quick glance at Pete was not gone undetected by Garron. "I'm willing to become an active supporter of Xavier's Institute. I already have a donation of 2.5 million dollars on its way to the Institute's accounts. I'm willing to give more, to parade in the streets, to volunteer at the school, anything! I NEED your support, and I'm willing to give mine, as well."  
  
"We at Xavier's appreciates de fact dat y' be layin' y'r cards on de table, an' we're certain we c'n benefit one anoder in many ways."  
  
"However, we'll 'ave ter continue t' be very frank with each other if we're to co-operate well."  
  
"In fact, I'm delighted you've gotten to this subject so fast." Ward leaned forward and folded his hands. "Co-operation is precisely what this meeting is about. I was surprised when informed that you were the people Xavier was sending for this meeting, but I suppose this is precisely what is needed." Wisdom and Gambit both lifted a brow, and tensed their stomachs, preparing for whatever was coming next. "In fact, the proposition I'd like for you to carry back to Xavier is this." He pulled a sheaf of papers from his desk and turned it toward the two men. "I'd like it if you'd look over this proposition, and seriously consider it."  
  
"Of course. I'm certain it'll be reasonable." Wisdom grinned.  
  
XXX 


	10. Scotch and Coke

Half a Year of Living Dangerously  
  
XXX  
  
"This is completely unreasonable!" Wisdom shrilled. "This kid wants a merger with Xavier's, an' I doubt th' ol' cueball's gonna thank us fer puttin' it into his head that we're in any way happy about that!"  
  
"Remy ain' de one what said it'd be perfec'ly all-right."  
  
"You shut up, LeBeau, an' quit referrin' ter yerself in th' third person or I'll smash yer fat 'ead into th' wall." Wisdom growled, his blue eyes sharpening and narrowing like those of a wildcat about to pounce. "I on'y want yer talkin' if yer've gott'an 'elpful idea, orright?"  
  
"Dat's jest fine wit' Remy." The Cajun shrugged, jamming his hands into his pockets. "I be 'ungry. We shoul' go out f'r a steak."  
  
"Th' last thing I need right now's a man-date." Pete muttered, stuffing his hands into his hair. "Wot I need is ter talk with someone wot I can trust."  
  
"Den call Chase. Dat'll calm de bot' of us down." Remy grinned snidely.  
  
"I don't need a damn head-shrinker!" Pete replied briskly. "Jus' some company." The other man moved toward him, but the Cockney warded him off with a handful of suddenly-blazing hotknives. "An' not yer company, either. Why don'tchyer go buy yerself some dinner an' some cheap female company? Or cheap male company if 'at's th' way yer swing."  
  
"Look, Wisdom, it ain' like de Profess'r expects us t' accept dis deal right off de bat, non? We coul' jest relay it t' 'im, non? No use in obsessin' over de whole damn mess when we jus' be de middlemen?"  
  
"Guess yer right, an' I should lay off th' stressin'." Wisdom shrugged. "Howabout that steak, eh? Yer payin'."  
  
Gambit chuckled slyly. "Guess dat man-date don' soun' so bad now, does it? Yo' payin' fo'e de drinks, oui?"  
  
"Fine, fine, y' damn Nazi." Wisdom shrugged into his rumpled overcoat and retrieved a crushed box of American Spirits from his pocket, lit it with a hot-knife, and sucked the smoke into his system. "Yeah. I'm ready. Let's get outta 'ere."  
  
XXX  
  
Chase sat facing the television with a blank stare in her crystalline blue-on-black eyes. She mushed the food on her plate around with her fork, and paused every once in a while to take a sip of her cranberry cocktail. Beside her, Cable sat studying her. All around them were chuckles and comments accompanying the film playing on the wide-screen plasma television.   
  
She watched the figures of light and colour move and interact on the screen, not really focusing on them, losing herself in the intermittent rhythm of the dialogue and pictures. Suddenly, she felt the psi-bond flare to life. ^Something's bothering you.^  
  
^No shit, Nate.^  
  
^Talk to me.^  
  
^No, I'm trying to watch the movie.^ his dry chuckle startled her.  
  
^What a load.^ he replied. ^Come on. You miss Worthington?^  
  
^Sure. Who's gonna keep me warm tonight?^  
  
^Don't joke, it's bad for your psychological health if you bury your true feelings. And it'd hurt MY feelings if I thought you weren't being honest with me. Like now.^  
  
^Mind your own business, Nate.^  
  
^You ARE my business.^  
  
^Fine. Yeah, I miss Warren.^  
  
^I'm sure Hank'll let you sleep with me.^  
  
^Nah. The clinic creeps me out, you know that.^  
  
^Sure. Whatever. You're not the one in the flonqing wheelchair.^ this drew a staccato laugh from her, and he smiled, knowing he was making progress. ^So?^  
  
^Jesus Christ, Nate. The guy loves me. What am I supposed to do?^  
  
^You have feelings for him, too, don't you?^  
  
^Yeah, sure I do. I really care about him, but I don't want anything. . .God, I don't want. . .it'd be amazing if. . .^  
  
^Take your time.^  
  
^Oh, stow it! You know what I mean!^  
  
^You don't feel "that way" about him?^  
  
^Exactly.^  
  
^You told him, didn't you? No good shrink wouldn't.^  
  
^I did, of course I did. But I also let him know that I DO love him, and then I. . .^  
  
^Oh, stab your eyes. What did you do??^  
  
^I may or may not have missed his cheek when I kissed him goodbye.^  
  
^Oh, shit.^ he rolled his eyes, and stood up, scooped her off the couch, and headed, with her tucked beneath his arm, into the kitchen. Much to his relief, Hank didn't notice. "All right, what on EARTH possessed you to do such a silly thing? Pardon the pun."  
  
"Well, I just wanted him to know that. . ."  
  
"You jinxed his trip. I thought you told me you wanted him to find a relationship in London. Now he's going to be all mixed up as to what you want for him. Do you want him? Do you not? It's ridiculous, you can't expect him to make up his mind!"  
  
"I'm sure I made it clear that nothing could ever happen between us."  
  
"Then why the hell would you KISS him, Chase? God!" Cable thrumped his fist on the table in frustration. "Women ARE evil."  
  
"It's not like that. . ."  
  
"It's EXACTLY like that, Chase. Maybe. . .maybe you really DO want to have a relationship with Worthington. You've gotta do more sweeps on your subconscious."  
  
"I don't think so." Her face scrunched into the pouty look she got when she became serious. "I'm not physically attracted to Warren. At least I haven't been for a long time, but like I said, I'd have to be pretty cold not to feel SOMETHING for him, at least now that I have the Phoenix to dictate my emotions."  
  
"What? Whoa, wait, back up. You never told me you were attracted to Warren."  
  
Chase rolled her eyes. "This is ridiculous. EVERYONE must have known that I had a severe crush on him. You know, back when I was. . .alone." she referred to her pre-Phoenix days as when she was "alone."  
  
"I didn't, and you sure as hell never told me!"  
  
"Well don't get all uptight about it, I got over myself so long ago I barely even remember the times I used to blush like a schoolgirl whenever he'd look at me."  
  
"Chase, you WERE a schoolgirl."  
  
"You missed my point entirely, you dweeb." She punched his shoulder. "But I mean, that was when I couldn't feel, really, anyhow. I couldn't experience my emotions, but now that the Phoenix possesses me, I manage to pick them apart."  
  
"Maybe you should talk to the Professor or something."  
  
"Why? I'm perfectly fine!"  
  
"No, I don't think you are. I wasn't the only one affected by that big blast you used on Stryfe last week. Maybe She's taken over another piece of your brain."  
  
"The Phoenix isn't going to take me over. She promised we'd be a symbiotic pair. I'd host her, and she'd allow me to feel."  
  
"Still. I've learned the hard way that 'I'm fine' never really means 'I'm fine.'"  
  
"If it means that much to you, I'll do it."   
  
"Thanks." He patted her shoulder softly. "So do you want me to sneak you a scotch and coke or do you wanna go back and watch that overpriced chick-flick?"  
  
"Show me the alcohol." She grinned wickedly and delved into the refrigerator for a 2-liter coke, while he scrambled in one of the highest overhead cupboards and drew out a green-tinted bottle of whiskey. He filled a tumbler about a quarter of the way, and handed it to her to fill with coke. She did so, swirled it, then held it up thoughtfully. "What do you want to toast to?"  
  
"To a year of living dangerously."  
  
"You know, I would," she said quietly, "but I don't think we really lived the ENTIRE YEAR dangerously."  
  
"Well, then, to HALF a year of living dangerously."  
  
"Amen," she grinned, and nudged her glass against his bottle. "Bottoms up, Nate!"  
  
XXX 


	11. Two Brief Encounters

Two Brief Encounters  
  
XXX  
  
Ward Garron tapped his heel impatiently on the floor of his limousine. Malice Garron sat beside him, eyes trained on the compact mirror balanced precariously on her left palm. With her right hand, she was applying lipcolor carefully. "Don't do that," she murmured, when she finished, and tucked her makeup away in a Prada handbag. He shrugged.  
  
"I'm just nervous. LeBeau told me on the phone that, even if he liked the idea of a merger with Xavier's, it's not in his hands."  
  
"What did you expect, Ward?" she rolled her eyes. "Neither of them looked very professional. They're probably two of Xavier's best spooks. Which one is LeBeau?"  
  
"The redheaded one, who always wears the glasses."  
  
"Oh. Him I didn't like the look of, even though he WAS as handsome as the devil himself."  
  
"Yeah. Wisdom seemed nervous, but that might have been owing to the fact that he's a chainsmoker."  
  
"Oh? Where did you hear that?"  
  
"I watched the video monitor for the main doors. As soon as he got out, he lit up a cigarette. It was like watching a shipwrecked man find water."  
  
"So do you think they'll grant you an interview with Xavier?"  
  
"It's possible. I don't know. Wisdom didn't seem to like me."  
  
"Not a lot of people do, because you're so young, and just out of University. But look, sweetie," she took his hand and squeezed it gently. "I don't want you to be worried. The Ward Law Firm is a very desirable company, and it isn't as though you're suggesting a buy-out."  
  
"I know. But even though this merge is going to be on equal ground, with equal stocks and control, Xavier's got to wonder whether I'll really care about the mutants in his school after I've found my biological family."  
  
"You're a mutant, honey, your best interests are in supporting a movement that protects mutant rights." She absently fixed his tie, smoothed his hair. He swatted her hands away.  
  
"Stop that, mom. But seriously, I mean, we've talked about what it's going to be like when I find my family. . .the family that put me up for adoption. I don't know it'll be like, or how I'll feel. I don't know whether I'll love or hate them for not loving me as much as you do! Maybe this entire thing is just unnecessary."  
  
"It's too late to turn back now, Ward," she reprimanded him gently. "Stop being so infantile. You're a lawyer and the heir to half of the Garron fortune."  
  
"But I didn't think about how fair it is to Shields to put half of the company up for grabs."  
  
"You're not putting Garron International on the line. Ward Law is your own company. You EARNED it, built it from the ground up!"  
  
"On my allowance from Garron International."  
  
"You worked for it. It's THE Law Firm on the entire East Coast, from Florida to Maine!"  
  
"Yeah, I know that. But Shields. . ."  
  
"Forget Shields. You've got to think business now." She muttered briskly, as the limo came to a halt outside the Garron Building. "Come on, I've got a meeting with Lel, and you've gotta pound these Xavier meatheads into chopped liver."  
  
"Thanks for the pep talk, mum." He rolled his eyes as they stepped out of the car and into their building. They parted ways at the twenty-third floor, which was his stop, and she went up to the fortieth. He stepped into his office, glanced over the few folders on his desk, signed a few petitions, and made some phone calls before Wisdom and LeBeau were shown in. "Good morning, gentlemen," he smiled. "Can I offer you lunch?"  
  
"Bit early f'r that, an' we'd like ter get ter th' point." Wisdom replied.  
  
"All right," Ward's stomach muscles tightened at the ominous tones of the older man's voice.  
  
"Look, mon ami," LeBeau cut in, his smooth whiskey and cream voice not quite soothing. "We've looked over de proposal, and I'm sure Professor Xavier'll consider it."  
  
"Great! So you'll bring it to him?"  
  
"Oui, an' once 'e gives us a definitive answer, 'e'll arrange a meetin' between de two o' y'."  
  
"That sounds great. Just what I needed to hear. Thanks so much, gentlemen."  
  
"Yer welcome," Wisdom stood up, shook Ward's hand, as did Gambit. "Well, we'd best be gettin' back ter New York. We've gorra bit'v a drive ahead of us yet, 'aven't we?" he glanced at his partner. "'Ave a good one, Mr. Garron."  
  
"Please, call me Ward."  
  
"Au revoir, Ward," Remy grinned, ushering Wisdom out the door before his tone could get any more sarcastic or cracked a lawyer joke.  
  
As they left the office, Ward grabbed his telephone and dialed the eighteenth floor. "Yes, Aster, could I speak with Shields, please? This is Ward Garron. Thanks." He paused. "Hey, Shields, we're going out tonight. They're taking my proposal back to New York!"  
  
XXX  
  
Warren studied his nails carefully as he sat across from the CEO of his UK-based cosmetics company. "So what are you telling me?"  
  
"Nothing yet, Mr. Worthington. Basically, our revenue is spiraling downward, and we've begun to take preventative measures."  
  
"If revenue is spiraling, Dean, you've taken preventative measures too slowly. I'm closing Golden Beauty down."  
  
"You can't do that to us! We'll all be out of jobs, and. . ."  
  
  
  
"Don't have a damn cow, Dean. Have all our workers repositioned to Young Beauty. Teenagers buy more makeup than seniors, anyhow. They'll be paid higher wages and everyone will be happy."  
  
"But sir, Young Beauty is barely off the ground."  
  
"Exactly. And since we're putting the old cow of Golden Beauty down, we don't have to hire for Young Beauty. That kills two birds with one stone."  
  
"But what about. . ."  
  
"What about you?" Warren laughed. "I'll get you a job in a spacious office with a great view of London for your trouble. How's that?"  
  
"What will I be doing?"  
  
"Something easy. You're definitely never going to be a corporate manager with Worthington Enterprises again. But this'll pay better with less work."  
  
"Thanks, Mr. Worthington. Thank you so much."  
  
"Don't bow and scrape, you're not off the hook yet." Warren snarled. "You performed terribly with this company, a company my grandmother started. Do you have any idea how well this particular enterprise has profited over the years?"  
  
"N. . .no, sir."  
  
"Then you should have been looking at ledgers more. You were so uninvolved with the process of running this company that it's crumbled into nothing. Tell me, is THAt behaviour befitting a professional businessman?"  
  
"No, Mr. Worthington."  
  
"I told you not to bow and scrape. Look at me, Dean." Warren reached across the table and tipped the other man's chin up so their eyes were level. "I admire you, Dean. Your persistence and passion. I noticed that whenever you begin a new project, you're always on top of things, when you're happy with the way things are going. But then, a year or two into any job, you sort of tucker out. You no longer like your work, you become tired of it easily. You come in late in the morning, glance over a few papers, take long coffee breaks, and leave for the day at lunch-hour. Have you ever thought about what kind of example that sets for our employees? When I gave you the job as head CEO of Golden Beauty, I expected you to show the kind of enthusiasm you displayed at the interview for as long as you held the position, not for one year, or even two or three. You can't bounce around with jobs, ruin one company, then the next, and so on as you tire of your job! Have some responsibility!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Worthington. You have every excuse in the book to fire me."  
  
"I'm not going to fire you. I've already offered you a job as a floor manager as soon as a position opens up. For now, I'll put down a six-month lease on an apartment and arrange a limited expense account for you. During that time, you're going to be reassigning the employees from Golden Beauty to same-level jobs at Young Beauty. Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"All right. I expect this job to be done well. If you live up to my expectations, I'll try to fit you into sub-management somewhere. Is that all right?"  
  
"Yes, sir, it's very generous."  
  
"Good. Glad you're happy. All right, I've got to run now, Dean. I'll be monitoring your progress over the next few months."  
  
"Yes, sir. Good afternoon, then."  
  
"Afternoon, Dean." Warren leaned back in his office chair as Dean Breckin scurried out of the room, then stretched and sighed. He picked up the phone, dialed 1 for his secretary. "Hey, Martha, I'm going out to get some air. Things are under control around here, aren't they?"  
  
"They are indeed, Mr. Worthington."  
  
"All right. Great. I'll be back in a half-hour or so." He hung up the phone, and walked into the full-sized bathroom behind his office, and opened the giant window there. Shrugging out of the jacket he wore, he detached the brace that held his wings in check and stretched them to their full sixteen-foot span and leapt out of the skyscraper.   
  
The wind rushed up to greet him, and he sighed in pleasure, let himself fall fifty feet before flapping his wings and soaring up into the sky again. The London air was thick—city air, Warren noted, always was, less easy to cut through until a certain altitude. He climbed the air currents, using his natural lift and startling some unfortunate pigeons. It wasn't long before he came abreast of Captain Britain, who was making his daily rounds over the city. They hailed one another with their eyes and met on the helicopter pad of a nearby building.  
  
"What're you doing here, Worthington?" the emblematic superhero demanded. Warren grinned.  
  
"Just closing down shop."  
  
"Oh, yes. I hear your mascara company crashed and burned."  
  
"It was my GRANDMOTHER'S mascara company, Braddock."  
  
"Of course." The two men glared at one another for a few moments. "So, how's your new girlfriend?"  
  
"I haven't got one."  
  
"That's odd, Meggan assured me you and Devoneaux were still together. But then again, you've such erratic emotions, it must be difficult to put controls on your raging hormones."  
  
"If you MUST know, Braddock, Chase and I were never dating, she was facilitating my emotional state in the wake of Betsy's death."  
  
"Ah, yes. Of course she was."  
  
"In fact, half of what I'm doing here has something to do with. . .well, closure."  
  
"My sister wasn't even dating you when she died. What DO you need closure for?"  
  
"I loved her, Brian. You never understood that, but I DID. Now I'm just here to apologize for anything you might still hold against me."  
  
"I don't hold anything against you, Warren," muttered Captain Britain, then, after a few moments of silence, he held out his hand to Warren, who shook it solidly.   
  
"So. . .how's Meggan?"  
  
"She's pregnant."  
  
"Again?!" Warren's eyes widened. "That'd make, what. . .number four?"  
  
"Numbers four and five. We're having twins."  
  
"Wow. That's. . .a lot of kids."  
  
"Well, we have the room." Brian grinned, referring to the giant estate on Muir Island. "They're all growing up beautifully. One of them has purple hair. Like his aunt."  
  
"Oh." Warren nodded. "Well, I should go. I. . .just thought we should catch up. Or something."  
  
"How's Xavier's doing?"  
  
"The school's. . .never been better."  
  
"Great. Maybe in a few years we'll have some ankle-biters to send across the ocean."  
  
"Maybe." The two men shook hands again, and Captain Britain resumed his patrol. Warren sat on the heli-pad, covered his eyes, and wept.  
  
XXX 


	12. But I Didn't Say a Word

But I Didn't Say a Word  
  
XXX  
  
Chase shoved the food around on her plate, making short chopping movements with her spoon, mixing smashed broccoli and mashed potatoes together with the utensil like an artist with a palette knife. Bobby and Paige sat on either side of her, exchanging quick glances. Finally, the farm-girl from Kentucky spoke up. "What's botherin' ya, hon'?"  
  
"Nothing really, I'm just not hungry."  
  
"I think we've all used THAT excuse at some time or other," Bobby quipped. "Don't drag us all down with you, Chasey-babe. If there's a glitch in the matrix, you should try to talk it out and maybe the Agents won't get you if you run fast enough and whoa. . .I just realized how to get past level ten! Gotta jet, girls, see ya later!" he leapt out of his chair and rushed into the rec-room.   
  
"So who do ya miss more, hon?" Paige inquired. "Warren, Wisdom, or Gambit?"  
  
"I don't miss ANY of them. It's just something I may or may not have implied to Warren before he left, and I've already talked this out with both Nate and the Phoenix, so I don't really want to burden you with my problems."  
  
"Whatever you want," Paige shrugged, "But I'm here for ya, you know that, right?"  
  
"Course. Thanks, Paige." Chase stood up and headed for the greenhouse, where Storm was doing her nocturnal watering routine. The air was humid and warm, and the Chase tugged off the sweatshirt she had been wearing. She stood motionless for a moment, watching the goddess empty her watering can over exotic orchids, vibrant wildflowers, romantic roses, and sharp-leafed miniature palm trees. After the initial shock of the ethereal beauty and scent that pervaded the greenhouse, the young woman stepped forward, and picked up another watering-can, filling it from a tap and scattering the contents over a few vibrantly-coloured shrubs Storm had missed along the way. As she came abreast of the older woman, she said not a word, waiting for her former teacher to initiate a conversation.   
  
"You seem troubled, child," Ororo Munroe's voice, soft and commanding, tainted by her tribal accent, sheared gently through the relative silence.  
  
"I've been thinking."  
  
"Oh, dear." Ororo joked, and Chase laughed quietly. "What troubles you?"  
  
"Well, Warren's gone, Nate's recovering, and training with Jean. . .the Phoenix is in general remission, and Scott hasn't approved me for action. I don't know what I'm at Xavier's for."  
  
"You're an integral part of our tracking team, Chase, but if you need some time to yourself, please don't conceal your feelings."  
  
"I'm trying not to," Chase scrubbed a hand over her face. "I really am." She sighed and sat down. "I hate to foist a complicated heart-to-heart on you at this time of day, when you're trying to relax."  
  
"But you must speak with someone, and apparently you can't speak with Nathan, as would be your habit."  
  
"I really need a woman's take on this situation."   
  
"Let's sit down," Storm led the girl to an ornate bench at the far back of the artificial environment. Chase lowered herself to the seat and curled her legs up, pulling her knees into her chest. "Tell me what the problem is."  
  
"I don't know what to do about Warren. I love him, Storm."  
  
"Then I do not see what the problem is, as he loves you, very much, as well. You'd make a lovely couple." Chase easily saw through the X-Woman's calm façade to the wheels turning in her brain.  
  
"You're already planning our wedding reception, aren't you?" she rolled her eyes. "Ororo, I'm not IN love with Warren. He put his involvement with Paige on hold so he could work out his 'Betsy' demons. He didn't want to go into a new relationship still mourning another woman, and he suddenly realizes he's in love with ME? Paige and I are friends, I couldn't do that to her."  
  
"Precisely. Paige saw how Warren was feeling before even HE did, and that is why she decided instead to date Bobby. She set him free so you could be happy. I've spoken with her, and she doesn't feel at all badly against you."  
  
"This is ridiculous. This happened before, with Domino and Nate. She hates me; she hates him, because I LET him trade me in for HER! I LET myself come between a man and the woman he's supposed to be with, and I can't fix it. I CAN'T, and I don't want that to happen between Warren and I, and most especially not with Paige. She's one of my closest friends and. . .and I wouldn't know what to say to her if. . .damn it, I've got to talk with her, haven't I?"  
  
"No, this isn't necessary, child. You needn't agonize over this. You and Warren were meant to be. Friendship can easily turn into romance. Just look at what happened between Scott and Jean."  
  
"Scott and Jean were attracted to each other for just about EVER." Chase snorted.   
  
"Well, perhaps you should ask the Phoenix what she wishes."  
  
"Yeah. You're right, I guess. Thanks, Storm." Chase squeezed the woman's hand. "You've been a big help." Before Ororo could say anything, she leapt up and exited the greenhouse.  
  
"But. . .I didn't say a word."  
  
XXX   
  
Wisdom shoved his way out of the elevator and past the teeming masses of students rushing to and from classes. Despite the large, dark glasses he wore, light seemed to be pouring at him from everywhere, enhancing the pounding headache and relentless nausea he was experiencing. The squeals of random children weren't helping, either. When he reached Professor Xavier's office, he stopped outside the closed door and leafed briefly through the file folder he held tucked under his arm. After assuring himself that it held the correct documents, he knocked on the door.   
  
Come in, the Professor said, I hope that's the Garron file you're holding.  
  
"Yeh, 'tis." Pete muttered as he opened the door and entered the dim, silent office. Sighing with relief, he sank into the comfortable armchair in front of the Professor's desk and tugged a crumpled pack of Craven A's from his jacket pocket. "Mind if I light up?"  
  
"If you'll give me a drag," Xavier replied serenely.  
  
"I give yeh a whole fuckin' cig if you'll numb me hangover." He opened his mind fully, and after a few moments, the throbbing ache subsided. He grinned. "Wot'll yer do if some villain captures yeh'n finds out that fags're yer biggest weakness?"  
  
"Rather, they are my sole concession to human frailty." Murmured the Professor jokingly. Pete tossed the file at him, and he nipped it out of the air. "Thank you."  
  
"I figure LeBeau's already bitched about its terms?" the former Intel officer dropped two cigarettes from the pack, handed one to Xavier, stuck the other in his mouth, and lit them both up with a hot knife.  
  
"Actually, he thought they were rather fair, but advised me to take into account Mr. Garron's moral character."  
  
"I swear, that bloody bayou rat 'as way too much'v a grudge against honest, hard-workin' lawyers." Pete sniffed, tightened his fingers around his cigarette, and took a deep drag.  
  
"Indeed," Xavier pursed his lips. "However, he is a senior X-Man and his opinion will be taken into consideration."  
  
"Christ, Charlie, th' kid's eighteen! 'E's barely legal an' jus' wants ter find out who 'is family is."  
  
"Be that as it may, Wisdom…"  
  
"Fuck me!" Pete rolled his eyes. "Enough with the wanking already! Jus' sign th' damn papers an' I'll toddle on ter Boston ter give 'em ter th' lad. Y' know yer gonna do it. S'just don't waste anyone's time."  
  
"You know I despise making hasty decisions."  
  
"Stop this bloody bullshit. I've gotta headache an' if yer lemme lie down in me own room, I'll never get back up. I'm goin' back ter Boston t'day'r not at all."  
  
"You're scarcely the first choice for doing business."  
  
"Everyone else's too important. Jus' sign."  
  
"I haven't even read the terms."  
  
"I 'ave. An' if th' loads of paperwork yer 'avin' me do all fuckin' day here isn't enough ter 'ave prepared me fer readin' some merger contract, dodgin' civil suits f'r th' 'collateral damage' I've inflicted in th' past has. Come one, Charlie. Do us a favour, will yer?"  
  
"I'm not going to…"  
  
"Yeh, y'are." Pete growled, by now more irritated than he had been when he'd walked into the office.  
  
Xavier was silent for a moment. "I see that even without a headache of your own you somehow manage to impose one on everyone else."  
  
"Yeh. It's an especial talent of mine."  
  
Xavier scanned the document. "Well, if you're certain."  
  
"Look, last night I wasn't jus' gettin' smashed, I was readin' over this thing, lookin' f'r loop'oles an' th' like. It's straight up, honest, good stuff."  
  
"Well I suppose I DO owe you a favour." Xavier picked up a pen. "And I trust you."  
  
"Well whoop-de-fuckin'-doo. Sign."  
  
Xavier scribbled his signature at the base of the contract, and handed the file back to Pete. "Go on, then."  
  
"I'm not takin' LeBeau."  
  
"Well, then, who ARE you taking?"  
  
"Someone else. Hey, wottabout Chase? Isn't Wings gone?"  
  
"Yes, he is."  
  
"Well, then, lemme take 'er with me."  
  
"Very well, if she consents. But I won't have you going alone."  
  
"Sure thing, Charlie. Cheers." Pete grinned and left the office.  
  
XXX 


End file.
